


The moon will sing

by Aet_rnim



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Dialogue, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fights, Fist Fights, Gore, How Do I Tag, Inner Dialogue, Lore - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Magik - Freeform, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25385641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aet_rnim/pseuds/Aet_rnim
Summary: The first rule to this world is death is never absolute. The second? Maybe I'll tell you, maybe I won't, death will follow my footsteps regardless of what you do, however having someone to tell me my screams are real would be nice.(discontinued until further notice)
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character, Original Female Character/Original Male Character, Original Male Character/Original Male Character





	1. Fate is made of strings

**Author's Note:**

> My friend told me to post this :/ But yeah not Beta read, funky first person POV so enjoy that. And stay if you want to we have cookies.

My head crashes into the wall of the cell. I grit my teeth in frustration. Cold slick, black blood runs down my spine, my blood. My vision falters starting to go black as stars dance in front of my vision, the dark almost pitch-black empty ceiling stares right back at me. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. My eyes feel like they won’t close, not wanting to have to stare at a terrifyingly familiar roof, I painfully squeeze my bleeding eyes shut. The freezing swift embrace of death wraps me up, death being warm is a lie, death is never warm, it's always, cold, slow, and excruciatingly painful, even though death is an old friend she never relents, always dragging me down to the worst possible fate she could give me.  
  
Death commonly is known as a man, I however know her as a woman, The most dangerous thing is a jealous woman, and Lady death has never lived, by purely living you succumb to the fate that death will always follow upon your heels your whole life. The price of life is death, we all fall to oblivion eventually.  
  
The cold freezing room doesn’t make this any better. Nothing could make this any better. Oblivion welcomes me again. For a while there is nothing, there is always nothing. Then, eternal pain as death begs for my forgiveness.

_____________

I awake in the same desolate cell I died in, in what I believe to be a few hours before. The blood that leaked from the back of my skull smells like it has dried up, I however have no sure way of knowing in the pitch-black empty room despite my keen sense of smell. I can barely move my weak body with the tight iron shackles wrapping me up like a pit fighting dog. I try to let out a laugh at the thought of myself as a rabid dog, but my cracked dry throat only lets out a hoarse noise that leads me into a coughing fit.  
  
When I finally stop coughing the silence continues. There is nothing in this iron box except for my breathing and the slow scrape of iron upon iron as I move the shackles that wrap me up, no more effective than vines. There is no point going to sleep in this small cage of hell. It's easier to greet death when you are not aware the voices that scream at you are not real. I try to lay myself out as best as possible with the tight restraints that I could break without a second thought, wrapping me up, but what is the point of breaking them when they are always there again when I break the surface from the cold embrace of death.  
  
I am just a slumbering monster, waiting for them to give me a purpose so that I can repent for my sins. Who came up with the concept of sin? Some self-pompous man who thought that they would be better than everyone if they followed some rules. Some would believe the Originals, the closest thing to gods you would ever get, created sin, to rule over man and keep them in line, however those twelve bastards are the worst sinners of them all. I let out a frustrated breath wanting everything to end. My eternity continues despite that I beg the heavens to end my misery.


	2. Black eyes like oblivion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your own mind will lie to you

I rest my head on the wall, ignoring the insanity that slowly creeps into my consciousness. The door opens, and light streams in, the pools of my blood that I previously thought had dried up glisten, nearly fresh, in the beams that filter through the door. I close my eyes. It's always just my imagination, the daily delusions that plague me normally have more blood as well as gore in them than an opening door however any relief from the walking nightmares that haunt me while I’m awake is what I’ve begged for. The gods never listen to my please and they aren’t even there.  
  
A warm humanoid hand grabs my cold lifeless upper arm. I tense up and whirl on the creature, knocking it to the concrete floor of my personal hell. I stare deep into real human eyes, they are the color of grass after light rainfall, the color of trees while spring is in full swing, gold flecks swim in the human eyes like koi fish in a pond, familiarity hits me, the person stares back at me and shows unrelenting and pure fear. Fear of me. A shout echoes through the cell. Somehow, I had missed the fact that another person, taller and much more muscular than the young man I have pinned down, had entered the iron cell while I was distracted staring in the young man’s eyes. I whirl around as fast as my deteriorated muscles could go; despite my efforts I fail.  
  
The blunt sword sheath hits me right in the temple. Darkness pursues my mind and unconsciousness meets me with buttercups, sun, and birdsong, accompanied by the numbness of death, and frozen limbs.  
  
Why must this darkness follow me everywhere?  
  
It isn’t death, it’s the in between. Space where no thoughts are formed, where there is no escape, where you don’t know when you will leave, when you don’t even know that you’re there. Your only memories being the entrance and exit. Something might be in the middle, but there is no need for memories in the placeholder between life and death. The knowledge that you might not wake up where you left off or at all, the fact that you won’t know what’s happened around you until you wake. That space where you don’t know that you are there, the loss of control. That’s what I fear. That loss of control. The control being taken from me is something I fear more than death itself. That control was just taken from me by my own foolishness. My own curiosity is some young man’s eyes are what was my downfall. Oh, how the nonexistent gods must laugh at me for my foolishness.

  


  


Light is being filtered through my eyelids. Light. The whole prospect terrifies me. Light Is what gives things life. It’s something foreign, something I had long forgotten in my own despair. I slowly crack my eyes open. The light blinds me, despite the fact I knew it was going to happen it still hurts. Seeing light for the first time in a few centuries, or millenniums, whichever it has been, I had lost track of the march of time long ago and was bound to be slightly painful. I squint towards the ceiling as my eyes adjust. As things come into vision, I start to take in my surroundings which I should have done the moment I woke up. I am surrounded in large plush vibrantly colored pillows. The duvet that encases my body is warm and gives me a sense of peace that had been buried in the deep depths of my memory.  
  
The odd bedroom has marble floors and multiple neutral fluffy carpets surrounding the four-poster bed that I lay on. The natural stone walls give off an aura that reminds me of memories I had abandoned long before I was placed in my iron coffin. The soft sound of a waterfall comes from the open doors that lead to a balcony. I start the process of sitting up, unwrapping myself from the blankets that hug my thin and frail body. Rain has started to fall, pattering on the balcony, it sounds like a symphony with the soft bird call in the background.  
  
I slide my legs off the bed, the light blue silk pajamas slide easily off the bed, some unknown person must’ve dressed me while I was unconscious, the thought of a person touching me makes my skin crawl. I try to stand up, my legs wobble as I straighten myself, while I stand on the warm reassuring sheepskin rug that sits under my feet. I finally steady myself enough to walk to the full-length mirror that hangs alone on a bare wall of the room. When I reach it, I don’t know what to do. The person that stares back is me, however in the same way It’s not.  
  
I look upon a familiar yet grim face that stares soullessly back at me in the mirror. My hair that used to be snow white and would glisten as the stars do, and my familiar military cut hairstyle that hung at my chin was gone. Turned black as ravens’ feathers and the midnight sky, my hair hangs so long that it drags on the floor. I looked frail and in need of protecting, due to my muscles deteriorating with no protein or exercise for years. My cheeks are hollow, and my eyes are so sunken that I look partially dead. My western continent tanned skin is now white as snow, as well as my freckles have disappeared, like they never existed. The only thing that seems familiar are the scars that riddle my skin, that somehow never faded in the years I spent in that coffin.  
  
The door slowly, hesitantly opens, the scent of the person gives off seems female, I turn around to the door to see a matronly looking woman enter the spacious room. As she lays her eyes upon me, she lets out an ear-piercing shriek that rattles my skull due to the heightened hearing my tall, pointed, faerie ears give me. I embarrassingly let out a squeak. She stares at me for a second and lets out a laugh from the pit of her belly.  
  
“I’m sorry, I- I just didn’t quite expect you to be awake, the sedatives were meant to last a couple more days. You just standing there like you saw a ghost, that was a shock to my system” She gives me an unexpected smile. The plump lady carries a laundry basket; she steps into the room and proceeds to march to the dresser confidently, in an ankle length dress that sways around her legs as she walks, she reaches the oak dresser that sits at the foot of the bed.  
  
I stare at her in shock.  
  
“Is this a dream?” My voice is disgustingly meek, it makes me seem unsure of myself, which is a horrifying truth. She looks up from the draws in which she was crouched over placing the clean clothes in. She smiles at me again. A kind smile, the type of smile I had forgotten existed.  
  
“Do you feel pain when you are dreaming?” She straightens herself out to look me in the eye even though she is about seven inches shorter than me, her presence makes her seem to tower over me. I wrinkle my brows at her question, there seems to be little to no correlation between my question and hers. She laughs at my face, the petite yet strong woman strides over to where I am standing and pinches me hard on my hollowed-out cheeks. When she lets go, where she pinched me stings. I realize I don’t know this woman’s name.  
  
“By the look on your face you felt that. I assume that confirms whether you are dreaming or not? My name is Adelaide, if you were wondering, which I assume you were.” Adelaide’s voice is warm and sweet and welcoming. Her scent and body language tells me she means no harm. I relax myself and try to feel calm, however adrenaline and pure confusion is still rushing through me.  
  
“Yes, it does. Thank you, I guess. But why am I here, and what the fuck happened?” I look straight at her. My voice coming off rough and raw, getting answers out of people is what I’ve always done best, being nice has never been a strong point, and getting answers is what I intend to do with this conversation.  
  
“A lady should never use vulgar language, Rovanelienia.” The use of my old name sends a wave of cold shock through me, Adelaide looks at me critically, sort of how a teacher would look at a student that has just failed an important task, I for some reason feel like I’ve failed this woman I’ve only just met, disappointment washes through me. She goes back to her work of putting the clothes away, very close to finishing her task.  
  
“Don’t use that name. That girl is long dead. I need answers, don’t avoid the question Adelaide, it’s not like I’m a lady anyways.” My voice dripped with sweet sarcasm. Adelaide cuts me a look and laughs. She doesn’t seem angry with me, only amused. The pattering rain outside gets louder as it gets heavier drowning out the sound of the bird song.  
  
“I knew you weren’t going to be boring. And to answer your question it’s because you swore an oath to protect this place no matter the sins you’ve committed and no matter how far you’ve fallen. At the very least that’s what the ancient texts said.” Her plain belief that I’ll help protect this place seeps through her words hitting me in the chest.  
  
“That’s definitely one way to interpret it.” The words I spoke that bind me to that oath are vague and confusing, the pledge has many loopholes that I can escape through, I made sure of that. Anyone who reads my written words must see that, that it was a hollow promise made for me to get what I want.  
  
“Whatever you say darling. What should I call you if you don’t want to be called Rovanelienia?” I usually hate being called darling, it’s usually used to make the other person feel small and lesser, however there is an honest kind intent that fills her words that make me sick with her overwhelming kindness.  
  
“Raven will do.” As Adelaide stands up from finishing putting all her clothes away the old wooden door creaks open revealing a tall, lean boy. His eyes immediately lock with mine; I give him a small vicious smile showing my sharp canines I received from my fae ancestors. His jaw drops.  
  
“Oh shit.” He lets out a slow breath and continues to stare even after I’ve broken eye contact with him and return to facing the golden haired, strong Adeline, she lets out a little laugh at the boy’s face.  
  
“Cain, it's rude to stare at a woman in her sleeping ware, I thought my sister raised you better than that.” Adeline gives him a mocking look. A light tone of pink rushes to his cheeks and ears.  
  
“Sorry, you were just taking longer than usual Aunt Adeline and I wanted to check on you.” he practically mumbles the whole thing.  
  
“If you're going to speak, speak strongly, there is no point in doing anything halfway especially speaking.” I bring my attention back to the boy as I speak to him, finally focusing on his features. He has brownish hair that could also be described as auburn, he has strikingly green eyes. His whole face is covered in freckles, he has surprisingly high cheekbones and a strong jawline, however the way he holds himself takes away from the fact that he is incredibly handsome. He stands like he doesn't know what he is doing there. His gangly figure awkwardly stands in a way that makes everyone around him uncomfortable, close to the way someone who never grew into their height would stand. He smells like fear, fear of me. A small smile pulls at my pale face.  
  
Fear can come in many forms, respect, hatred, suspicion, dread, one thing is common within all of them, the stars listen to all of them. The stars eat off every form of fear. They make sure that there is never none left, they thrive off of fear giving it in healthy doses. Daughters of starlight marry fear, they dance in the planes of dismay for fun. They bathe in blood and screams. They drink nightmares.  
  
I was one of them.  
  
Now I am the one afraid. Terrified.  
  
Adeline brings my attention back to her as she practically orders Cain to alert someone that I am awake. He hurries out of the room. Practically running from me, the adrenaline from being feared again after millennials washed through me. I clench my fists, drawing blood, I lift my hands up after the sting of my nail’s fades, blood pooling at my hands, my golden, and purple eyes stare back at me in the reflection of my blood. Adeline critically looks at my hands then up to my face. She lets out a sigh that I can see in the air.  
  
“Let's get you cleaned up shall we?” she heads toward a small greyish wooden door that I hadn't noticed, when the door is pushed open it reveals a small and compact bathroom that has a porcelain tub, with a golden sink besides it, as well as a toilet that sits on the opposite side of the bathroom. She leans down to retrieve what seems like a medical kit, from a shelf on the smooth tiled, cream wall.  
  
“Sit down. I need to wrap your hands, and after I've done that I will cut your hair, unless you want to keep it this long, which would be incredibly impractical, however I can't exactly judge you for it.” Adeline’s voice is strong and holds no trace of fear that the boy had leaking out of him. I slowly follow her to the bed making sure not to trip with my wobbling feeble legs. The long dress that hugs Adeline’s figure brushes my legs as I shuffle past her to sit on the bed. As she methodically cleans and wraps my hands I stare at the pattern on her skirt, made up of random swirls and incredibly complicated arrangements it gives off the impression of a stormy sea at dusk.  
  
I hiss as she tightens the bandages around my hands, the slick, cool disinfectant burns my hand as she presses is down with more force than I was expecting.  
  
“Can you cut my hair at knee length; I want it long, just not this long.” She looks up at me as I answer her question. She finishes and cuts the bandages, tying the loose ends together. She straightens herself out, meeting my eye with a reassuring smile, a smile that makes others feel warm is a rare gift. A smile that you know from the depths of your broken hollow animatronic heart is genuine.  
  
“Will do. Do you have a preference for the clothes I get for you?” Adeline walks back to the bathroom after neatly putting away all the supplies she used into the medical kit. I look at my hands again and wince, somehow the pain is so much rawer than pain was down in my iron box.  
  
“Make them fear me, but make it warm and practical, god I’m fucking freezing here.'' I meet her eyes, they're as black as obsidian, the color of death.  
  
My eyes go wide.  
  
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.  
  
Adeline gives me a wide smile that shows disgustingly long sharp fangs. Her body begins to morph in a grotesque way, her muscles bulge and her skin rips revealing a 7-foot-tall humanoid figure. Its flesh hangs like rotten meat. Its smell fills the room making me want to gag.  
  
I stand up, she’s panting like a starved, dehydrated dog. I stare into the eyes that hold oblivion, the eyes that I know will end me if I let them. The whispers of death fill the room. The rain outside has stopped. The clouds retreat to the places that they come from like travelers. After a good day of trading. The sky shows itself for the first time in infinity. Forever and never stretch between me and the eerie horror that stares at me.  
  
There is only one way that I will get death to follow my command without it coming to guide me to the land of nothing and nowhere. My fingers twitch to gather my old friends.  
  
I dash to the balcony, the putrid smell that hangs about the horrors flesh follows me. Its long-disjointed hand grabs my arm as I lunge towards the open balcony doors. The thing pins me down staring into my soul. The bird song stills, everything about this is wrong. Nothing is the right color or smell, and everything feels like death incarnate. I have reached the land of misery. The land of memories, desolation, and despair. Everything falls down in different directions as I let the rough current off fate carry me away from this place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any and all criticism is welcome! the purpose of writing this is to improve my writing, so it would be helpful :)


	3. Blood falls on a marble floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black blood the color of obsidian stares back at me.

I am screaming. Thrashing  
  
Light blinds me as I open my eyes. I'm not afraid of what'll happen to me, I am afraid of what I'll do to them. Who are they? I don't know. What's real, am I real? I am the only person I can prove exists anymore. Maybe Lady Death decided to place me forever in this in between, or is this hell? My hell seems like no more different than reality. Or is lady fate trying to tell me I don't deserve to make it past the 100 planes. The 100 lands of truth that determine your fate, after you follow the stream of life.  
  
I am screaming.  
  
Blood is leaking from my eyes and hears. I can't hear. I can't see.  
  
Help.  
  
Iron chains that burn into my skin wrap me; they hold me to this life.  
  
Everything hurts. Help me.  
  
A hand touches my cold frozen, burning shoulder.  
  
I made a promise a long time ago. An oath if you will. The promise was I would be strong for everyone. I wouldn't cry, I would stand tall and lead the way to a better world.  
I'm sorry, I don't think I can do that anymore, I'm too broken for this world. Nothing I do seems to work.  
  
I am destined for nothing.  
  
Everything is ringing.  
  
My eyes start to focus. My first thought is that there is too much of my blood on the floor. My black blood that resembles obsidian stains the marble floor. Then I take in the fact that there is a fuck ton of people watching me.  
  
I start laughing. I can't help it. I start laughing hysterically, my shoulders move with every breath. What is this? The plane of embarrassment? I finally look up to the person at the end of this grand glimmering entrance hall. A very regal old man is giving me a critical look. A tall silver crown sits on his grey hair. Two people flank him on each side, they're younger looking. One of them has astonishing green eyes that look incredibly disgusted with me, the thought of someone I don't know judging me makes me start laughing again, but this time my laughs turn into a coughing fit that results in obsidian blood running down the side of my mouth.  
  
I must look like a madman.  
  
“Care to explain why I'm here, your oh so mighty highness?” my voice is rough and quiet, my throat hoarse with screaming, the droppingly sweet sarcasm still seeps through my words despite my quiet voice.  
  
The courtiers that stand at the edge of the hall whisper. I can smell their pure fear as it oozes through the air. Their hushed voices weave through the air and meet my tall pointed ears, despite my urge to block them out.  
  
I am kneeling in the middle of this grand hall, chained and bloodied, while being gawked at by women and men who have probably never seen a dead man. Sheltered bastards. The man who has his hand on my shoulder is tense and afraid, yet his hand is warm, a welcome change to my frozen and battered body.  
  
Is this real? What does it mean for something to be real? Nothing. Nothing is real if you don't believe it is. it's only your reality. Twist the world to your will and everything will snap into place eventually. The outcome will change, bad or good. It's not exactly decided by what you deform to your will.  
  
Decide what you are going to do and do it. Nothing can stop you once you've gained momentum. Not even the strings of fate themselves.  
  
“‘I swear this oath, to put myself before the people of this god forsaken world and walk the path of truth. My blood forever binds me to this oath. No matter how far I've fallen, no matter how desperate I am, even if the people of this eternity decide that I am the scum of this earth. They are the ones that I will put myself in front of.’ You spoke these words millennials ago, when the world was barely born, and the stars and moon were new, did you not?”  
  
My eyes go wide. I snap my head up from the point of the floor I was focused on. Meeting eyes of the calculating eyes of the man on the throne. A smile that holds no warmth is spread across his mouth. Everything seemed to go quiet when he spoke. The gossiping courtiers seemed to have disappeared. Light filters in through curtains. Illuminating the floating dust that hangs in the air. The large windows let in the light to the cathedral-like entrance hall. Detailed banners that have artistic depictions of many conquests. hanging from the towering ceiling. The hall, so large the rafters could house birds in them, and no one would know. I let out a loud and obvious sigh. I give the king who is clearly trying his best to intimidate me, to make me quiver in my boots, a long and bored look. The type I would give an old friend.  
  
“Do you genuinely believe I meant any of that shit? I was trying to get what I wanted, and that oath gave me it. There are many ways to interpret it, especially since it was spoken in the old language. There are thousands of mistranslations and-”  
  
“The 100 realms are folding in on each other.” I freeze. The hand on my shoulder that was holding me up let’s go of me. With a sudden jerk I lurch forward landing with a thud on the chilly tiles.  
  
“That's impossible.” I breathe, I twist and start to stand. My legs wobble, my old ragged clothes hang off my gaunt body. I finally straightened myself out. My long black hair snags on the chains. A slightly hysterical laugh makes it way out of my throat. Somewhere in between the moment I fell to the floor and when I stood up, I started crying. The golden tears stream down my face. I must look like a ragged doll. I don’t give a shit about what the damned courtiers think anymore.  
  
All I can see is red.  
  
“What the fuck did you bastards do to get the realms to fold in on each other?” my voice is the equivalent of a glacier. I am staring at this man who thinks I owe him something. Like I owe any fucking one something. The whispers from the men, women and children start again. They are similar to ghosts of malevolence. Waiting for you to slip up to reveal your innermost insecurities.  
  
“That's the thing. We don't know. And we don't have anyone to ask.” One of the men flanking the king on the golden glittering disgustingly gaudy throne replies, surprisingly calm. Fear still hangs in the air, alike to mist after light rainfall.  
  
“Why don't you go ask an original, or one of the Seconds? The problem involves them too. Why go through the struggle to drag me from my pit?” My eyes wander around the room. Looking for the ripple in this delusion.  
  
“Look the king in the eye when you are speaking to him.” the other man with golden hair starts to walk down the steps that hold the throne in which he was standing next to. He starts the long walk to the other end of the hall in which I stand. His military style uniform fitted to him perfectly. Regal idiot. His badges jingle as his torso moves with his steps, as he makes his way towards me.  
  
High cheekbones, straight nose with a slight bump, freckles, strong jawline, fair skin, golden hair that is pulled back into a ponytail with few loose strands, green eyes like grass after rainfall. He is the spitting image of what one would imagine a regal prince looking like. As he makes his way toward me, I realize for the first time that he is incredibly tall. He towers over me as he stops in front of me. His wide torso blocking my sight to the throne.  
  
Shit, he ripped, probably a long swordsman.  
  
I couldn't take him on a one on one fight without my magic right now.  
  
He looks me in the eyes, looking into my soul.  
  
Suddenly he gives me a deep long bow. I let out a small snort, at the fact of this incredibly regal prince bowing to me. Even when I was at my most powerful no princes or kings would ever bow to me, I just would refuse to bow to them.  
  
He straightens himself out. Looking down his nose at me.  
  
“We can’t ask any seconds or originals, and you are the strongest third that there is , we also asked other thirds yet they refused, yet you have a reason not to refuse, you don’t want to be put back in your iron coffin do you?” His crisp voice that has a slight accent cuts through the air. His voice alone wasn't the thing that made my heart cave out.  
  
That doesn't make sense. There are 26 Seconds and thirteen Originals. Without them the world crumbles. One original for each continent, and two seconds per Original and three thirds per second. The pillars that hold our world together.  
  
“What are you insinuating?” My voice wobbles. The last time I did that was when I was 14 and I had just seen my first dead body.  
  
“Exactly what you think. 500 years ago, the Originals and Seconds started disappearing. Slowly so that no one noticed. Now we are desperate for their help and they aren't here, and the thirds have turned into cowards, too afraid to do anything without a seconds approval. Yet you were in that cell. You are the only one we can go to for help, because you don’t want to go through another eternity in that iron cell.” His accent keeps catching me off guard, reminding me of people who are long dead.  
  
“I am known to be a murderer and a psychopath. What makes you think I would help you? Are you really that desperate?” The princely prince gives me a critical look before turning around and walking back to the platform. His cape that hangs off one shoulder brushed my legs.  
  
“Yes, we are that desperate.” He doesn't change his walk, he doesn’t turn around and yet I can hear the blatant truth in his words, the honesty hits me in the chest. The desperation in his voice reminds me of a person I abandoned a long time ago. The person I used to be.  
  
“What do you want me to do?”  
  
_____________  
  
When the stars align. When the Daughters of Starlight Whisper in your ears and invite you to dance. When the Sons of the Moon lure you into their bed with their flawless skin and sultry smiles. When you dance to the sounds of screams, and play a flute made of human bones. When the nonexistent gods fear you. When death begs for your forgiveness, and Life cowers at your presence.  
  
That is the moment when you are no longer human. 

  


The castle that I now walk along the halls in is one founded on lies, secrets and half-truths. The secret passages that wind their way around the castle. The grand Library filled with books that should have been burned long ago. The dust that gathers on them hides the deadly information they hold in their pages.  
  
The birds that live in the rafters don't understand the concept of death, they are immune to the slow march of time, their song is one of the few stable truths that we rely on. After the end of time and the world has disappeared into dust and starlight, their song will float through the ether ready to join the next creation that the creator of eons will give us.  
  
The light that filters in the windows stops time as the cherry blossoms float through the open windows that are alike to doorways to another world in many ways. The soft warm air that floats through the castle puts your heart at ease, distracting you from the blood of your loved ones that stain your hands.  
  
The forest that surrounds the castle on three sides holds monsters that even Death couldn't fight off. The screams that come from the tall snow capped mountains that reside in the forest sound like symphonies to the inhabitants of the fortress. The cliff face that faces the gates has a crashing waterfall that runs blood red the night of a full moon. The bridge that leads to the capital city of this unnamed country, goes over the deep blue endless lake that the waterfall fills.  
  
When the gates open at night the ghouls and truth tellers make their way into the castle to dance with the sinners that live within. The river nymphs drag themselves onto the bridge, dragging themselves on land to make their way to the old fountain that resides in the old courtyard, it is so deep no one has ever seen the bottom, not even the man or monster who made it.  
  
The wind that makes the trees sway comes from the mountains that the stars dance on. The valleys that are in between the mountains, hold secrets that not even the oldest beings on the earth know about. Rain will stain the large towering glass windows when the boys turning into men march into war with countries that have secrets lining their armor as they fight for glory that never lasts.  
  
I walk these hallways that have history that has been written and unwritten a million times. My feet hit the carpet that lays on the wooden floor of these halls. I am being led through this castle by a faceless and nameless maid, that will be killed by the mystery of these halls.  
I am being led through this castle. My bare feet hit the cool wooden tiles that line the floor of this hall.  
History is written by the winners.  
  
History isn't a thing that cannot be changed.  
  
As I hear the soft thuds of my feet against the floor, and the warm air flows through this castle, brushing against my bloodied cold arms.  
  
I finally let go.  
  
I can rewrite myself; I can rewrite history.  
  
And no one will stop me.


	4. A place long and forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Memories are not something you lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk i if should change the rating to mature bc of all the gore :/ tell me what you think.

A month has passed since my eternity was ended and I was dragged out of my iron coffin.  
  
My hair is wrapped in two tight braids. So tight my head hurts. The wet freezing braids fall along on my back soaking the baby blue, soft cotton shirt that I am wearing. The cloaks hood falls over my forehead as I stare at the floor while I continue the long trek in the bottom of this canyon. The long blood red cloak that I was given falls past my feet dragging on the floor engulfing my now lean figure. The wind barrels down into the valley, where our group of liars and sinners’ hike. The cloth that wraps my feet, substituting for leather boots, is soaking wet. That idiot blonde haired prince pushed me into a river. The purpose of pushing me? I have no clue.  
  
If I am such an important part of this mission, why open up the possibility of me getting hypothermia? Absolute dimwit. I much prefer his auburn-haired brother, quiet, calculating and only funny when the time presents it, not like his try hard brother, much more intelligent than the blonde-haired fool. Shame blondie is the heir to the throne.  
  
Why didn’t they let me bring extra shoes? Why did whoever planned this exhibition decide that I shall walk in the shoes that I climb in? bandages on my feet can’t even really be considered shoes. I let out a long-tired sigh as I jog up to where Captiosious stands. With his hood down his ear length copper hair shines in the wind. His short-pointed ears are tinted pink with the cold. He’s staring at the map, that shows the reader their path to his or her fate. He looks up to me as I approach him.  
  
His long ornate cloak, riddled with gold patterns that seem to announce that he is a prince, waves around in the wind. His forest green eyes meet mine, his eyebrows crinkled together in confusion.  
  
“What’s wrong?” My voice seems to get carried away in the wind, however his eyes seem to portray understanding. He points toward the crinkled map that smells of dusty books, and ink. He lets out a frustrated sigh.  
  
“It doesn’t seem to work, I spent hours looking through texts to find something that could help us find your artifact and the one I found doesn’t even seem to work,” His quiet voice rings through the air despite the howling wind that surrounds our group. I give him a look.  
  
“I don’t need artificial help, we are only this far because I had a prophetic dream for fucks sake, it’s not like I need a magic map to find the other part of my powers.” He closes his eyes for a second at my response.  
  
“I know I just feel so useless.” Our footsteps along the gravel rattle around the valley. The wind seems like it won’t relent anytime soon. Dark storm clouds cover the sky as we walk, by night fall it’ll be pouring down. I rub my temples as I walk at the thought of a storm.  
  
“You’re not useless, you’re dedicated, as well as intelligent. Worth isn’t always based on fighting prowess.” I look up at Captiosious’s tall gangly figure, giving him a small smile. He doesn’t respond to me only looking up at the grey sky that hangs over us, that’s the only boundary between us and death.  
  
We walk in silence, hanging at the back of the group of thirteen, seasoned warriors. The tall wide men laugh at jokes that don’t make it to our ears. the self-absorbed blond crown prince leading the way despite not having a clue where he is mean to go.  
  
The pound of sharp rocks against my feet that only have the protection of a few layers of bandages make me wince. After living thousands of years of pain doesn’t make simple things like blisters and paper cuts go away, I wish it did. Captiosious’s eyes make their way to my feet, he lets out a hum of disapproval, however he doesn’t comment on the bandages that have a few bloodied patches seeping out of the bandages.  
  
The end of valley comes into sight as we pass the last corner. The mountains on either side of us open way to a green forest that seems like something out of a dream. The light filters through the tree’s emerald leaves, lighting up the forest floor. The secrets that lay under the forests canopy might just kill you or reveal your deepest secrets.  
The monsters that lie in the forest hide in the forest waiting for you to let your guard down before they strike. The front of the group stops where the gravel stops, and the grass starts. As Captiosious and I reach the stopped group, I shrug of my cloak, the wind having died down I didn’t need it as much anymore. Ignoring my still damp clothes that chill me to the bone, I throw it at Viribus, it lands on his golden head. 

  


  
____________

  


I start to weave through the knee-high grass that sways in the light wind that remains from the gale force winds from the valley. The multicolored birds that eyes track my movements sing old and forgotten songs. Soft warm light filters through the leaves illuminating my slightly tanned skin. A few butterflies float through the air, going about their lives, unaware of the danger we are in. a small stream runs through the grass, the water running over the rocks create a portal to another world. The vines that fall from the tallest branches of the bright green trees that tower over the small inconsequential beings that make their way through the floor of the forest.  
  
  
I step over the stream ignoring the people voices that echo around me, bouncing off the tree’s thick ancient trunks. My feet his soft damp moss, the bandages that surround my feet soaking up the mosses water. The shadows seem more like a comfort than something to be afraid of.  
  
A memory washes over me, one of a past life, when I was younger, innocent, and didn’t have a care in a world. The familiar voices calling after me. The soft thud of my bare feet against mud, dirt and moss. My own carefree laugh that weaves through the air. The small floating magical animals leading me back home.  
  
The memory is brought short when a large hand rests on my shoulder. I push Viribus off, I feel his disapproving gaze on my back. I continue to march on into the forest.  
  
“It’s dangerous we need to set up camp as a group.” I whirl around to give him a scowl. Fuck him, and his camp. I was getting somewhere, and he had the audacity to ruin it.  
“If you remember correctly, you and your men, threw my tent into a ravine this morning. I don’t have anywhere to sleep so therefore I don’t have to set anything up. I won’t be staying in your camp tonight, as I have to find some shelter, so I don’t fucking die of hypothermia, especially after you threw me into a river while I was asleep.” I am so fucking done with Viribus’s bullshit. He expects everything to be done for him and that he can do whatever he wants because he’s a freaking prince. My voice is made of venom and knives.  
  
“It not my fault you wouldn’t wake up this morning. And your names Raven. I thought it implied you were a little birdie and could fly down and get your stuff back, it was your punishment for complaining so much. I’m sorry, the ancient texts said you were the daughter of flight, they said you could fly.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm. I hate the way he looks at me like I’m less than him, I hate the way he smirks like he knows he has won the argument. I hate how tall he is. I hate how right now he could beat me in a fight. I hate everything about him.  
  
“Darling maybe you should shut the fuck up, because you obviously don’t know how to read in the old language, I’ve seen you try to read the map of fate, and you’ve failed miserably. So how would you know what the ancient texts say about me? As well as the fact the you seem slightly obsessed, if you want me to not complain let me go. I won’t complain for the rest of this delightful journey.” I give him a smile dripping in condescending sweetness. Not bothering to hear his reply I let the strings of fate pull me back in time by leading me through this forest of memories. 

  


  
_______________  
  
My footsteps leave imprints on the overgrown path that only exists in my memory. I let my hands fall freely, hands holding onto the tall grass as I stroll down the path. The smell of fresh newly boomed flowers floats through the air brining tears to my eyes, as memories surface in my mind. The bird song slowly is getting louder and louder as I become closer to my destination. Dew hangs off plants that haven’t been seen for centuries. The light seems to come from another universe.  
  
As I follow the path to my past, I am aware of watching eyes. As tears stream down my face the people who I relied on so heavily watch over me. They’re disappointed, I should be honest to the people who I have to help. But I can’t, I am scared of what they’ll do to me after they know what I had brought upon this world. Their invisible critical eyes watch me as I walk a path that used to only live in my memory.  
  
The truth will always come out they seem to say. Rain starts to fall. Slowly. Then heavier and heavier, until I can only hear the roar of the pouring rain. The cold water falls from the never-ending sky, hitting my skin with a sting, turning my newly tanned skin pink with impact. The sound of the rain hitting the leaves and the forest floor seem to drone out my thoughts. I ignore the freezing rain that seems to scream for me to turn back, as I continue deeper into this old forgotten forest that hold my own as well as many other secrets.  
  
After what seems alike to centuries of walking this path the trees open to a clearing that has a small cottage that hasn’t aged. Despite the millennials it has stood there it stands as tall as the day I was built. The tears falling from my face are lost in the onslaught of rain that falls onto my tired body. I walk towards the door that saved me in the past, and the door that will save me again. The magic runes that protect this house from the ticking of time, cause my skin to tingle as I pass the powerful border created by one of the oldest being in the universe. My numb hand reaches towards the door handle.  
  
My hand rests on the cool metal that has been untouched by man for ages upon ages. I slowly turn the handle and stare at the familiar inside of the cottage. A hollow laugh escapes my laugh as my legs collapse in on themselves. I am sprawled on the warm wooden floor sobbing. My racking cries go unheard. My tears pool on the floor. Staring at my hollow soulless expression in the pool of my tears, causes me to start shaking. I slowly go to rest my head on the floor in exhaustion. My eye lids are dragged down by the soft call of sleep.  
  
I open my eyes again as my body starts to shiver from the glacial rain that soaks my body. I start to collect myself, dragging my long limbs to stand up. After I finally manage to stand up with my shaking wobbly limbs, I strip down from my sodden shirt, and leather pants. I throw them across the chairs that face the enchanted fire that never dwindles or goes out. I start my way up the narrow winding wooden stairs that lead to my old bedroom.  
  
When I open the door that used to feel familiar yet now feels foreign, I look into the room while feeling like I’m not even there anymore. I breath outwards, attempting to ignore the rising panic that has come out of nowhere. I quickly walk to the dresser, discounting the sharp pain I feel when I accidently knee my old, small wooden bedframe. I crouch down on my haunches to open the petite dresser; I hurriedly retrieve the dry clothes from the dusty dresser. I want and flee the silent room as fast as possible. I leave the eerily quiet room and run down the creaky stairs, back to the enchanted sitting room and kitchen. I collapse on the sofa, throwing my clothes that I grabbed from upstairs on the coffee table, wrapping myself in a warm quilt that was sitting unused by time on the sofa. I stretch myself out, trying to relax. The sweet noise of the rain hitting the windows causing me to drift off into a welcoming, warm slumber. 

  


  
_____________

  


I awake to the noise of thunder. Mist has settled over the forest as well as the glen that this house sits in. I stretch my self out, rubbing my eyes to ward of another fit of sleep. I let out a sigh as I see my still bandaged feet. Proceed to get dressed in the clothes I retrieved from a bedroom of a past time. The tan skirt goes down slightly past my knees. The leather waist band that holds the light yet warm skirt up is what I use to tuck my shirt, with billowing long sleeves in, the turtleneck hides the scares that wind their way up my body. I walk over to the cupboards in the kitchen that I remember having the emergency medical kit.  
  
I carry the heavy bag medical bag as well as a bucket of fresh cold water over to the sofa I slept in earlier. With I sigh I open up the bag and retrieve disinfectant and new bandages, as well as a water bucket and new cloth. Slowly yet methodically, I start to unwrap my bandaged, blistered and bruised feet. The slight pain of taking bandages off after a couple days makes me wince. After I have finally taken off the dressing I stare at my slightly bloodied feet. Letting out a sigh I dip a fresh cloth into the pail of water and start to clean the dried blood of my feet.  
  
As I continue to disinfect and rewrap my feet, I let my mind drift. The wind that howls outside the house drowning out all sounds except the crackle of the fire and my slow breath. I let my mind drift to the fourteen people I left behind in the forest. The tall arrogant Viribus must be ecstatic with my disappearance. Captiosious would be worried a slight bit but in all honesty, he wouldn’t care that much. I made a new oath in the month I stayed in the castle preparing for this expedition.  
  
That I wouldn’t abandon the people of this world and I would stay and protect them; I must always come back no matter what detours I take. I must always go back and protect this world with all my might. I let out a sigh. It was foolish of me to make that oath, however having other people believe you’re a fool can be seen an advantage. People think you are a sweet kitten when actually you’re a lion lying in wait.  
  
I look down at my feet after I finished my job. The enchanted bandages don’t absorb water, only blood. I smile breaks out on my face. He, the man that I have relied on since I was young, was always the smartest, always thinking of everything. I quietly put all of my supplies away, wiping the small amounts of blood off the wooden floor.  
  
The torrential rain seems like it will never relent. The thick fog that has fallen over this cavernous forest. I let out a long-frustrated breath. I have to get back to wherever the group set up camp. I slowly clean up the cottage, making sure I leave everything the exact same way it was before I came. I walk to the oak wood coat cupboard that stands tall next to the entrance. Pulling out a long cloak like coat that has long wide sleeves and waterproof runes lining the seams. The hood is large and covers the entirety of my pointed ears easily, the bottom falls down to my ankles, yet its short enough that I wouldn’t drag on the floor. My old teachers scent still lies on the exceptionally well-made cloak.  
  
The few fractures that were holding heart together, that were keeping me going, allowing to me to pretend I was ok, shatter at the familiarity of a time without struggle or fear. The terrifying things I need to do soon loom in front of me. Making me feel as small as the day I left everything I knew behind.  
  
I gather myself together, plastering on a fake smile as easy as putting on a mask. If I can convince myself that I don’t have a problem, that in am not slowly dying inside then I can convince the whole world to.  
  
Letting those thoughts drift away from me, I turn towards the back of the house that defeats time. I let my legs carry me to the small hatch at the back of the kitchen. I stare at the runes I put in place multiple lifetimes ago, when I was another person entirely. I crouch down to run my finger along the intricately carved pattern that runs along the edged of the perfect square.  
  
I grasp the rusted golden handle, my hand tugging upwards. The dark oblivion that lays behind the hatch stares at me. I stand up.  
I start the decent into this ete  
rnity.

  


  
_________________

  


My skirt and coat brush past the soaking wet plants. The rain still pounds upon my hood. I continue the path that leads me back to my timeline. My memories leading me away from the cottage that has now served its purpose and will crumble with time. The vines twisting over its stone walls. Plants reclaiming what is rightfully theirs. My feet squelch through the mud. Small streams form between the plants from the unrelenting rain.  
  
The large and tall canopy of trees does barely anything to block out the falling rain. Every few minutes a large crash of thunder can be heard echoing through the forests damp air. Light exploding from every direction when lightning strikes this godforsaken cursed forest. I weave my way through the thick and abandoned paths of this forest.  
  
My braided hair runs down my back on the inside of my coat, making my skin itch. I freeze as I see a forest spirit. The small three-foot figure stares at me, its glowing body illuminates all of the plants around it. The wet plants glimmer in her presence. She’s standing twenty feet away from me, not blinking, staring in fascination. I crouch down, my skirt and coat folding around me, and give her my warmest smile that I can muster up with the abysmal rain falling around us.  
  
“Can you help me find my friends?” my voice twists into the old language. The forgotten language perfectly fits my tongue. It sounds like I was born speaking it. The small creature cowers behind the tree she was standing next to. Her small skirt floats around her ethereally, the warm light that emits from her body seems to make the rain go away.  
  
Her small horns poke up from her curly hair that levitates around her petite body. her large unreal eyes seem like they hold the answers to the universe. They might as well for all that I know.  
  
“I promise I won’t hurt you; I just want to find my companions.” I lower my voice; however, I know that my soft voice reached her ears when she slowly approaches me and grabs my outstretched hand. Her hand is extremely warm despite the rain.  
  
She leads me deeper into this large and seemingly endless woodland. The rain pounds around us, drowning out any coherent thought I could make. My feet ache.  
  
After what seems like hours the forest opens up to another glen. So close to the mountains that the group and I walked between, they tower over us, basking the glade in shadows. Just as I reach the clearing the owner of the small warm hand that lay in mine scampers of at the sight of my companions. I thank her in my head. Reminding myself to make an offering to the forest spirits later, after night fall.  
  
As soon as I make the final step into the clearing, I hear screaming, and laughter. The screaming of a forest nymph. The group of warriors are torturing a poor forest nymph for fun. The thought makes me want to hurl. I stride over to where the thirteen men are sitting around the fire. Surrounding the poor male forest nymph. Poking him with hot metal swords. My hands are shaking.  
  
“What the absolute fuck do you think you are doing?” My voice is as cold as the torrential rain that falls outside the shit barrier that some half assed warlock made. The men turn towards me, all with smiles on their faces.  
  
“Having fun darling want to join us?” One of the faceless men say. I stare at them with pure disgust written on my face.  
  
Viribus comes out from one of the many tents set up. I see he takes note of my new clothes. I don’t give a shit about what he thinks.  
  
“Why in the faceless gods name did you let them do this?” I whirl on Viribus, he has a smile written on his face. I want to shove a sword through his forehead.  
  
“The men need to let of steam and have fun. I don’t see the problem.” The ignorance makes me want to scream at them in their idiocy.  
  
“Letting off steam in sparing, having fun is telling war stories. NOT torturing a poor innocent intelligent creature. ESPECIALLY one that’s family can curse you, and they will, the monsters that roam these forests will come for you in revenge.” I look at him again my eyes empty.  
  
“Didn’t take you for an animal rights enthusiast.” His ignorant smirk makes my blood boil. I know the family that that forest nymph comes from will make his blood stain the dirt of this forest. Its nearly impossible to escape the wrath of a vengeful spirit or nymph. The unseen sun hangs at its highest point in the sky  
  
I ignore his statement as it is wildly inaccurate, nymphs aren’t animals they’re children of the Originals as much as the high fae, fae or humans. I stride over to where they have the poor male nymph tied up. I slowly carefully take the restraints off him, bundling his small body into my arms. The thirteen vile men snicker at me as I carry him over to a rock that sits next to a pool of clear water. I feel their gazes on my back, Varibus’s eyes makes my shoulders heavy. Its been a long time since someone could ridicule me this much and get away with it.  
  
Captiosious walks up to me carrying a medical kit. He sits on the rock next to mine as I cradle the poor nymph.  
  
“I’m sorry, I tried to stop them. They just didn’t grasp what a nymph family’s vengeance can do to someone.” His voice holds slight truth, though I know he didn’t try his hardest. I let out a sigh. I proceed to clean the wounds on his green skin. The blue blood slowly seeping out of the wounds. I stand up and start to carry him over back to where the forest starts.  
  
“Shouldn’t we dress his wounds?” Genuine curiosity lines Captiosious’s voice. I hum a tiny bit, thinking through my answer, my feet leading me slowly through the damp green and yellow grass towards the tree line. My skirt making a rustling sound as they pass the knee-high plants.  
  
“No as it’s not quite a natural product it would ruin the healing process, its best for us to give him back to his family for him to heal and get better.” I finally reach the tree line. Captiosious nods in understanding to my explanation. I find a small bed of grass a way away from the clearing to place the small nymph’s body on, from the size of him he seems to be young, a child or teenager. The thought of this create being scared of people because of some bastards makes my blood boil. I stand up and motion for us to leave him on the bed made of plants.  
  
As we make the short trek back to the clearing a scream shatters out through the misty air. Captiosious and I break out in a sprint to the glen. My skirt brush past my legs quickly running to see the cause of the screams that rattle through the freezing air. I can barely see with the rainfall blocking my vision.  
  
When we reach the clearing a horrid sight faces us. A roughly ten-foot-tall black wolf-like creature stands in the middle of our camp. eleven dead bodies lay on the floor. The black eyes of the monster whirl towards us. Blood is running down its canines, scars riddle its back, its three tails wag in excitement at the rancid smell of death.  
  
A large gust of wind blows through the valley chilling me to the bone, blowing my hood from my face, my long braids float in the wind. The eyes black like the ocean stare at me as I meet the monsters gaze, for the first time in a millennium a genuine smile makes its way to my lips.

  



End file.
